It Is Not In The Stars
by GGirl1423
Summary: Phoebe Grey is eighteen, nearly done with high school, and unsure about her path in life. Aside from her love of Shakespeare, she feels like she has nothing that is completely hers. And then she meets Adrian Taylor, and a quote from the Bard takes on a whole new meaning: "It is not in the stars to hold our destiny, but in ourselves."
1. Chapter 1

**~*~*~*~ There's a Divinity that shapes our ends, **

**Rough-hew them how we will. ~*~*~*~**

When I had been younger, I'd always been so upset when my mother and father went to charity events and I had to stay home with a babysitter (usually either Sawyer or Taylor, along with Mrs. Taylor). This got substantially worse when Ted turned sixteen and was allowed to attend the events with them and I was left at home, trying to comfort myself with Oreos and milk or some random board game that Mrs. Taylor had bought for just such purposes.

And then I turned sixteen, and I was allowed to go to the charity events, too. It was so exciting – getting to buy a new dress, having my hair professionally done, and occasionally getting to indulge in wine, when my father wasn't paying very close attention to me. It was thrilling to me to get to go to such parties and mingle with the rich and (occasionally) famous of Seattle. Not many people that I knew got to do such things, and I always had wonderful stories to share with everyone during a dull moment at the fancy private high school that I attended.

But now that I was eighteen, the excitement had dulled. Buying a new dress was just a norm, and I found that I didn't love it as much as I used to. The women that did my hair always seemed to be a bit too rough with me. The wine was good, but no longer a craved indulgence. And the conversation… it was like a competition among the people for who could come up with the most boring topics. It was all very drab, but I was still expected to go, even though I would have much rather been curled up at home, reading a play by my favorite author, William Shakespeare.

"You look distracted, my dear," Dr. Flynn said as he found me. It was a masquerade, sure, but it was hard to not recognize Dr. Flynn, what with his British accent and that voice that just made you want to spill all of your darkest secrets. He was my father's regular shrink and I'd been sent to him once when I was young, after a classmate of mine had died.

I smiled politely at him, certain that he had been able to recognize my perfect corkscrew curls of the darkest shade of brown. They cascaded down my back, which had been the insistence of my hairdresser for the evening. I normally tried to wear my hair up, but she wasn't having any of it. And my eyes… well, their gray luminance glowed through the mask, the same color and shape as my father's. "I wouldn't say that I'm bored, Dr. Flynn."

He rolled his eyes. He had asked me time and time again to call him John just as my father did, but that was too informal for me. He had worked hard to earn that degree, and I planned to recognize that. "Phoebe, you know that you can call me John. And if you wouldn't say that you were bored, what exactly would you say about this cloud that seems to hang over you, my dear?"

"I wouldn't say a word," I responded as seriously as I could. "I would keep all of the emotion bottled up inside until it bubbles over and I inexplicably explode on the poor girl behind the Starbucks window."

But Dr. Flynn knew what I was doing and he merely smiled and rolled his eyes. "More business for me, I suppose. Do you happen to know where your mother and father have wandered off to? I can't seem to find them anywhere."

Of course he couldn't. Mother and Father were constantly sneaking off at parties, and I had finally figured out that it was because they wanted to go and get busy. Apparently, semi-public sex (and lots of it) was at the very top of their bucket list. But I wasn't about to talk about the gross habits of my parents (who were surely old enough to know better), so I lied for them. "I haven't seen them recently. I have no idea where they might be." Kind of the truth, at least.

"Ah, well," he said. "I was hoping to speak to your father about rescheduling his appointment later in the week. Ask him to call me, would you?"

I smiled sweetly. "Of course."

Dr. Flynn leaned in to give me a hug and then disappeared into the large crowd. Mr. and Mrs. Ezra certainly knew how to throw a party. There were rather large ice sculptures scattered throughout the yard amongst enormous bouquets of flowers. A fancy dancing and dining area had been set up, and they had those nice portable restrooms. The crowd was dressed in the finest silks, satins, and tuxes. It was the scene that I had grown up in, but a scene that I found myself growing tired of nonetheless.

As more and more people began to move towards the dance floor, I snuck away. Dancing was not my strong suit. Maybe if my elder brother, Ted, had been there I would have let myself be led out onto the dance floor, but Ted was away at college at Harvard. Probably out having a good time at some frat party or with a nice girl. I made a mental note to call him later in the week.

As I came near the small, man-made lake – _I wonder how much that cost them to put in _– I found myself stumbling. I had tripped on something… a fallen log? But then strong hands were clasping my arms, keeping me upright, though barely.

"Careful," a low baritone voice murmured as I stumbled to regain my footing. "You shouldn't be walking out here in such high heels."

Pulling away, affronted, I stared at the man that had caught me and that I had apparently stumbled over. I could only just see him with the help of the distant lights of the party, but I could tell that he was gorgeous. The lines of his face were clean, unmarred by hair or blemish. His dark hair was artfully messy and in no sort of arrangement. His eyes were barely discernable. Dressed in the finest Armani had to offer, if was obvious that he was no trespasser. He held himself in a way that bespoke years of ingrained civility and the kind of certainty that came only from knowing that you could buy whatever you needed.

Stumbling over my words in a way that was so unlike my articulate self, I said, "You… were you just lying on the ground?"

"As a matter of fact," he said, quite seriously as he finally let go of my arm, "I was."

I couldn't help but snap back in a witty manner, as seemed to run in my family on both sides. "Are you stupid or just plain mad?"

Looking up at the sky, he said quite dreamily, "_I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw._"

My mouth fell open. "That's from _Hamlet_. You like Shakespeare?"

He studied me carefully for a moment and then said, "_Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind._"

"_A Midsummer Night's Dream_," I said, delighted. "_You speak an infinite deal of nothing."_

There was no hesitation. "_The Merchant of Venice_." A pause. "I take it you are a fan of Shakespeare?"

"Are you _kidding_?" I asked him. "He's my absolute favorite. But you must be a fan yourself to be able to quote him so accurately."

"He is _a_ favorite," the man proclaimed, and a secret smile curved his sensuous lips. "What is your name?"

Remembering my manners, I offered him a smile and my hand. "Sorry. I'm Phoebe Grey. Daughter of Christian Grey."

"Christian Grey…" he mused as he shook my hand. "The billionaire entrepreneur. I'm Adrian Taylor."

"Adrian Taylor…" I knew that I had heard that name before. And then it hit me and my mouth fell open. "You're the billionaire who-" I cut off abruptly, face flaming.

"Whose parents just died and left him complete control over all of their companies, making him one of the richest men alive, all at the ripe young age of twenty-three," he finished in a dispassionate voice as he dropped my hand. "It's okay; you can say it."

"I wouldn't dare," I responded, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "It would hardly be polite."

A slight smile curved one corner of his mouth. "Who needs polite? All the manner nonsense. Why can't we all just be… real?"

"Because then we'd be a world of heathens."

"_Hell is empty and all the devils are here_," he quoted.

"_My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart concealing it will break," _I snapped back.

He laughed aloud, a beautiful, deep sound. "_Though she be but little, she is fierce!"_

All of my insecurities about being too little to capture a man's attention came rushing back, though I knew that wasn't what he had meant. Stepping back, I said, "I have to go."

Suddenly he was no longer laughing, serious once more. "Have I said something to offend you, little one?"

_Little one… too little_. "No," I lied and took another step back. "I need to get back to the party before anyone knows that I'm gone. I… I hope you enjoy the party."

He gave me a small nod. "You as well, Miss Grey."

I turned on my heel and marched away.


	2. Chapter 2

**~*~*~*~ All the world 's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts. ~*~*~*~**

"Earth to Phoebe!" Sarah rolled her eyes when I finally snapped to attention. "Okay, girl, you seriously need to talk about whatever is bothering you."

"Nothing is bothering me," I lied and straightened my wrinkle-free work shirt just to avoid her eyes. Sarah, as the master of lying and deception, could always tell when I was lying.

And apparently it had nothing to do with eye contact, because she slapped my arm. "No sell. Come on, let's hear it."

Glancing around to make sure that no customers were drawing near to the counter, I turned to face her, lowering my voice to just above a whisper. "Okay, so, this past weekend, there was a charity event at the Ezras-"

"The Ezras?" she asked, interrupting. "The super old rich couple that seems to always be sick but won't just _die_?"

I rolled my eyes. Leave it to Sarah to be blunt. "Yes, those Ezras. But that's not the point. The point is that I didn't want to be around the actual party anymore and so I wandered off-"

"I don't see why you don't stick around these parties," she interrupted again. "There's always some news story about them, so I know they have to be exciting. But I suppose you're more content to just sit around and read boring literature."

"Classics," I corrected her and gave a pointed glance to the library where we both worked (though with Sarah it was more of a _have to_ kind of thing). "Anyway, that's not the point either. The point is that when I walked away, I tripped over a-"

She laughed, once again interrupting me. "Of course you tripped over something! Gosh, Phoebe, you have to be one of the clumsiest people I know!"

That wasn't true; I was only clumsy part of the time, especially when it was dark. "Will you quit interrupting me?" I snapped.

Nodding, she fell silent, though a laughing light still danced in her green eyes. "Sorry, continue with your story, please."

"Anyway, so I tripped over something and then I was caught by this.. super gorgeous guy." I could think of no other way to describe Adrian than that. "We talked for a few minutes, but Sarah, he quoted _Shakespeare_."

Her mouth fell open, and I knew that it wasn't just in mockery of me and my excitement. "Wait… a guy that was actually gorgeous quoted Shakespeare to you. Like, well?"

I relayed the conversation so that she could hear exactly _how_ well, and I left her speechless for a moment. "You speechless… that's a first."

"You taking notice of a gorgeous guy is also a first," she responded. "You have to tell me everything. What's his name?"

"Adrian," I said. "Adrian Taylor."

"Doesn't really ring a bell," she said after a moment. It wouldn't for her; she wasn't a part of the high society. "He must not be in the tabloids much."

"Probably not. He was away from the circle of the party, so he obviously tries to stay out of the limelight."

"Another trait you have in common," she pointed out with a wink, tossing her straight blond hair over her shoulder. "So, when are you seeing him again?"

I felt myself blushing. Because I so desperately wanted to. "We're not dating, Sarah. We just shared a little moment at a party. He probably doesn't even remember me."

"Well, you obviously remember him, and I'm going to go ahead and say that is _leaps_ ahead of where you normally are. I need to meet this guy who has caused miracles to happen."

It was my turn to slap her arm. "Stop."

"Hold on," she said as a group of small children approached her section of the desk. "I'll check these people out and then I want to hear some more about this Adrian Taylor." She moved away, pasting on a wide smile for the children and their parents.

I watched her for a moment, until a voice near me said, "Excuse me, I was wondering if I could acquire some assistance?"

_That voice_… I turned and nearly gasped when I saw that it was Adrian standing near the desk, hands casually in the pockets of his black slacks. He wore a crisp white shirt that somehow showed off his muscular arms and chest, and I could now see that his eyes were blue, so help me God. His artfully messy dark hair was the same as it had been the night of the party, as if he had just jumped out of the shower and decided that he was good to go.

He smiled when he saw me looking. "What a pleasant surprise, Miss Grey. I happened to be in this portion of town and decided that I would like to check out the library. You work here?"

"Volunteer," I nearly gasped, my voice suddenly unable to work. "My father doesn't want me to get a job." Why get a job when he could just hand me whatever money that I needed? But Mother had convinced him to let me volunteer at the library, thankfully.

"Ah," he said and then gestured behind him. "I needed some help. I don't suppose you would happen to be available?"

I could hardly imagine him needing help in a library, but I obediently stepped out from behind the desk and moved in the direction that he had indicated. We moved along and didn't stop until we reached the poetry section. There, he paused and perused a few titles. "What do you recommend, Miss Grey?"

Put on the spot, I suddenly found my mind growing blank, so I went back to my traditional response. "Shakespeare."

He smiled, then, the first true smile that I thought I'd seen from him. "Why am I not surprised?" From the shelf, he pulled out a volume of Shakespeare's sonnets. "A favorite, Miss Grey?"

"I could no sooner choose a favorite star in the sky," I told him and moved closer to the shelf, right beside him, scanning the titles. So many good poets, and yet the poetry section seemed to be the least visited.

"Tell me more about you, Phoebe Grey," he said, and I could feel his eyes on me, watching as I distractedly picked a book from the shelf.

"There's not much to tell," I said softly. What could I possibly say that would interest him? He had probably traveled the world, had been subjected to all that life had to offer someone his age, and I'd only been outside of Seattle on family vacations. And even then, I'd been too closely watched by my father to have much fun.

"I doubt that," he said and stepped closer, so close that I could smell his delicious cologne. "_We dance round in a ring and suppose, but the secret sits in the middle and knows."_

"Robert Frost," I breathed. I felt like all of my thought processes were slowing down. _Jeez, why couldn't I look cute today? _I was wearing a library T-shirt and a pair of jeans that were fading but that I'd yet to throw away. And my hair was thrown up into a sloppy ponytail, while my face was decorated with nearly zero makeup. "Very good, Mr. Taylor."

"I believe it's your turn, Miss Grey. Quote Frost, or give me a fact about yourself. I would quite prefer the latter, if you don't mind." He was right behind me, not touching me, but oh how I wanted him to.

"I… I'm not all that interesting," I breathed. "I have a brother. He's two years older than me. Ted. That's his name."

"Are you close?"

"Who? Oh, Ted." I felt myself flush. "Yes, we're close. He's in college at Harvard right now, but we keep in touch nearly every day."

"What a special relationship to have," he commented. "I always wanted siblings. But I suppose my parents didn't want to mess with perfect." His teasing tone was an aphrodisiac.

"Apparently mine didn't, either," I commented. "I'm the youngest." That was actually because my mother had experienced complications with me that destroyed her ability to have children, but he didn't need to know that.

"Well, aren't we special?" he murmured softly. Just when I was beginning to lean back into him, he had moved from behind me to stand a few feet away, examining titles once more. _When did he put up the volume of Shakespeare?_ "Any favorites aside from Shakespeare, Miss Grey?"

The names were back, flowing freely from my mouth, a river. "Coleridge, Tennyson, Wordsworth, Bronte, Poe, Cummings, Whitman…" I broke off so that I could catch my breath.

He smiled, almost to himself, and nodded. "Excellent choices. Wilde, Hemmingway…"

"Yeats, Blake…" I countered.

He chuckled, facing me. "Cohen, Sexton…"

"Carroll, Emerson…"

"Rumi, Hughes…"

I was about to respond, but then I heard Sarah's voice calling for me. Not wanting her to discover me with him, I felt myself beginning to panic.

"Relax," Adrian said with a short laugh. "I'm certain I'll see you around, Miss Grey." In a gallant gesture, he took my hand, bent, and pressed his lips to my knuckles, making me lose all of my breath. When he straightened, he winked and offered me a wide grin. "Until then, Miss Grey."

"Until then," I breathed, and he ducked around the corner just as Sarah came into view.

"There you are!" she said. "A huge crowd just came in. We have to go."

"Sure." I brushed past her, eager to hide my blush.


	3. Chapter 3

**~*~*~*~ "You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely." ~*~*~*~**

Glancing at the closed door of my room, I tried to talk myself out of it. _It really doesn't matter. Just let it go. It's not that important. So he quoted Shakespeare… so what? I bet there are a lot of guys out there your age that can quote Shakespeare._

With a sigh of frustration, I opened my laptop, logged in, and then opened up the Web browser. After Google had popped up, I looked once more at the closed door and then typed in: _Adrian Taylor_.

And there he was in several pictures right under the Images section. In most of them he was wearing a tux, his dark hair messy and his blue eyes bright with laughter from some private joke. Looking at him, I began to appreciate Greek sculpture – he looked just like one of them with his chiseled facial features. I took note of the fact that he didn't appear to have a date in any of the photos, but I also reminded myself that it didn't necessarily mean anything. He could have a girlfriend tucked away in some remote corner of the world.

Scrolling down, I opened up an article about him and read it over, though I didn't learn much. His parents had died in a car crash, leaving him their entire empire. Overnight, he'd become one of the richest men in the world and the CEO of various companies. He was well-traveled, it seemed, and he had a degree from Harvard, where he'd graduated with honors with a degree in economics. I couldn't help but wonder where his love of reading – especially classical literature – had come from. Maybe one of his parents had encouraged it? Or maybe he had just picked it up on his own.

"Phoebe!" my mother's voice called, startling me into dropping the laptop off of the side of my bed. "You're going to be late!"

A glance at the digital clock on my bedside table told me that she spoke the truth. Taylor – my family's security man, not Adrian – would be waiting for me in the car. "Coming!" I called and jumped off of my bed, scooping up my laptop so that I could put it into my backpack. And then it was a mad dash into my bathroom to make sure that I looked presentable.

I wore a black skirt, pink blouse, and wedges. My dark brown curls were pulled up into a high ponytail and while my makeup wasn't the best, it was at least okay enough to wear to school. After spritzing on just a bit more perfume, I rushed down the stairs. Mrs. Taylor was waiting at the bottom with a banana and a cup of yogurt, and I grinned at her and snatched it as I went by. My parents were waiting near the front door, my father to leave and my mother to say goodbye. I kissed her and then dashed out the door and into the waiting car, where I tossed Taylor a CD.

He put it in and then smiled when the first track came on. "Nickel Creek today, Miss Grey?"

I grinned back at him as I adjusted my backpack so that it could sit on the floor. "I was in a folksy mood."

My father smoothly folded himself into the backseat beside me and nodded at Taylor, who took off. When I graduated, I would get my own car, but until then, Taylor took me to school and my father usually rode along. "So, someone missed breakfast this morning."

My father had grown up hungry in the earlier part of his life, and he was always all over my mother and Ted and me about eating enough. But being me, I had to be snarky. "I eat _challenges_ for breakfast, Father."

He gave a small half-smile of amusement. "Let's hope that doesn't give you indigestion."

"Studies show that no real harm comes from skipping breakfast," I told him even as I peeled the foil off of my yogurt.

"And do you believe everything you read?" he asked me.

"Yes," I replied seriously and then pretended to consider. "Well… unless I read it backwards. Then I get suspicious."

He rolled his eyes and chose not to dignify that with a response. Both of my parents had a sarcastic sense of humor, but my father tried not to encourage it too much, even though it seemed to happen anyway. "Have you made any headway on deciding on colleges?"

"I was thinking about just going for visits to all of the ones on my list," I told him and finished off my yogurt. "We'll have to do that soon, though. It'll be a pain in the rear, but sometimes in life you just have to have a sore rear."

Amusement shone in his eyes. "We can make it happen. Get me a list of dates and I'll take care of it. Please tell me that Stanford is on the list."

While my father was all about me going to an Ivy League college, he would really rather me stay close to Seattle. I knew that part of that was because I was his baby and he hated to see me go, but I knew that an even bigger part of that was his need for control, especially over those that he felt the most responsible for. "I've already told you that I don't want to go to Stanford." I ticked the colleges off on my fingers as I named them. "Yale, Harvard, NYU, Columbia, and Princeton."

He made a face. "Not Princeton. And why NYU? It's the only college on your list that isn't Ivy League."

"I like New York City," I explained.

"They don't have a Space Needle in New York City," he told me, as if I wasn't already aware of that fact. "You know, Seattle has a perfectly acceptable university."

I refrained from rolling my eyes. We'd had _that_ discussion before. "Dad, you know I don't want to go to college in Seattle." I wanted to add, _I want to get away_, because I knew that would only hurt his feelings. It wasn't like he was a terrible father – he and mother had always loved Ted and me unconditionally and gave us everything that we needed. They'd been strict when they needed to be, but we were ultimately a loving family.

Ted had said it best when he sat me down to tell me that he'd gotten accepted at NYU and that he was planning to go. _"Phoebe,"_ he'd said, _"I can't stay here in Seattle. I need to get out and see the world, away from Dad's protection. Everyone in Seattle that knows I'm a Grey… it's just too much pressure for me here. I want to move to New York City and start over, become who I want to become."_ I hadn't really understood then, but as I approached my senior year in high school, I began to. Being a Grey certainly had its advantages – as I had known since I'd been born – but it also had its disadvantages.

My father frowned, but luckily received a call right about then from his head IT guy. As he took the call, I stared out the window and listened to Nickel Creek, thinking about the coming days and what they would bring. I knew that it would be hard for me to leave the protection of my parents' home and Seattle, but I also knew that it was something that I needed – and wanted – to do.

Finally, Taylor pulled up outside of my school and my father put his call on hold to lean over and kiss my cheek. "Have a great day at school. Learn something."

"I will," I responded and stepped out as Taylor pulled open my door. After my backpack was securely on my shoulders, I gave him a quick hug and then headed towards the building. People were milling about in the commons, talking and laughing and carrying on. I looked around for a bit and then headed inside, knowing where I would find Sarah.

Sarah wasn't crazy about reading, but she'd gotten into the private school by way of an essay that she'd written over _To Kill a Mockingbird_. Since then, she'd felt as though she owed some sort of loyalty to books and libraries. Hence the reason that she volunteered at the library. Well, that and her parents had told her that she needed to volunteer _somewhere_.

Sure enough, I found her in the library, sitting at a table by herself, flipping through a magazine. Probably _Cosmo_. As always, she looked exceptionally cute, wearing a green dress that showed off the curves that she possessed. Her hair was perfectly curled, makeup looking professionally done.

I slid into the chair opposite her and offered her a small smile. "Morning."

"Yes, it is," she sighed, turning another page in her magazine. "I had to skip my morning coffee and I am _feeling_ it."

"The day hasn't even started," I informed her quite unhelpfully. "Maybe Dr. Pritchett will wake you up in AP Eco."

She groaned and put her head in her hands. She absolutely hated our AP Microeconomics class. The teacher was quite boring and math just wasn't her strong suit. Math wasn't really my strong suit, either, but at least I had my businessman father to help me. "I hate my life right now. Is there any chance that I could come down with something horrible and have to miss first period?"

"Not a good idea," I warned her. "We're having a guest speaker today, which means there will be a quiz tomorrow."

Again, she groaned. "Kill me now."

"Sorry," I said and stood, shouldering my backpack, as the first bell rang. "Like my father, I am firmly anti-firearms. Come on; let's get this over with."

On the way to class, she gave me a running commentary about how much she hated the class, which wasn't exactly new information for me, but at least it kept her awake. By the time that we arrived at class, she seemed to be ready.

Dr. Pritchett was waiting by the door as always, wearing that same deadpan expression and a horrible suit. He was an incredibly smart man, but he had no common sense whatsoever. Of course, as soon as we were out of his earshot, Sarah began to harp on his fashion sense. This continued up until the time that the bell rang, indicating that all students should be in class.

Dr. Pritchett took roll in his monotone voice, and then stood in front of us and began to speak. "Today, as you may recall, we will be having a guest speaker. He is running a bit behind today, but that's all right because I wanted to talk to you all. I expect the utmost respect to be given to our speaker. Treat him as you would me. Is that clear?"

Before it could be made known that everyone understood, there was a knock on the classroom door and Dr. Pritchett went to answer it. As he opened it, Sarah tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and she was rolling her eyes, smiling. "I'll bet you ten bucks that it's some old, hairy businessman."

"I'm not an idiot," I whispered back. "There's no way in hell that Dr. Pritchett is going to be able to get a speaker that's actually interesting."

"You mean someone handsome?" she asked me, eyes a bit unfocused. "Someone with espresso hair and the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen in my entire life? Someone like that? He couldn't get someone like that?"

Confused at her sudden change in demeanor, I turned back around in my seat and caught sight of our guest speaker for the day.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm Adrian Taylor and I'm going to speak to you all for a brief moment this morning."

_Oh. My. God._


	4. Chapter 4

**~*~*~*~ "We are such stuff as dreams are made on, rounded with a little sleep." ~*~*~*~**

"Adrian Taylor?" Sarah hissed in my ear. "Is that the Adrian Taylor that you were talking about? Phoebe? Phoebe?"

But I couldn't hear her; the blood was rushing through my body, roaring through my ears, and I had no idea which way was up and which way was down. Adrian stood casually at the front of the room, looking for all the world like he _belonged_ there. I doubted that there were many places out there where he was out of place.

"Miss Grey!" Dr. Pritchett's voice startled me and it was only then that I realized that I had risen from my seat. "Whatever are you doing?"

"I… I…" All of the eyes in the classroom were on me, including Adrian's. Quickly, I looked away from him and at Dr. Pritchett, hoping that my face wasn't flaming. "I really need to go and see the nurse. I'm not feeling so well all of a sudden."

He frowned but walked to his desk to get me a nurse pass. An example of why it was good to be a Grey, I thought. My father was a benefactor, so the teachers were generally syrupy sweet to me. When he offered me the pass, I snatched it and then left the classroom without looking at Adrian, though I could feel his eyes on me.

_What is he doing here?! How does he know Dr. Pritchett? Why did I have to act like an idiot in there? Why couldn't I have just pretended that I didn't know him? Why did I have to freak out? What am I going to tell the nurse when I get there? I can't just go home; there's a lot to do today…_

The nurse didn't ask too many questions, thank goodness; she insisted that I needed some fresh air, so she sent me to go sit outside for a while. I decided that I would stay there until second period started. _I really hope that Adrian isn't giving a lecture in French, too_, I thought dryly as I made my way outside, going to sit on one of the benches near the fountain. I had always greatly admired the campus, especially the fountains and rose gardens. They did an excellent job on the upkeep, even during the winter months.

I'd been sitting there for quite a while when a familiar voice said, "_My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still. My father does not feel my arm; he has no pulse nor will."_

Without turning around or even looking at him, I returned, "_The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done. From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;"_

Adrian dropped down onto the bench beside me, staring at the fountain as he quoted the next lines. "Exult O shores and ring O bells! But I with mournful tread-"

"Walk the deck my captain lies," I finished, also looking at the fountain. "Fallen cold and dead."

"So," he said, and I felt him shift beside me, felt his eyes on me. "How's our sick little student?"

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I said, "I'm fine. The nurse said that I just needed some fresh air. It's helping."

"Wonderful," he responded. "I'm glad to hear that you're feeling better."

Years of inbred civility caused me to respond, "Thank you. I'm sorry that I missed your lecture; I'm sure it was quite interesting."

"Not really." He smiled that smile like he knew something that I didn't. "At least, your friend didn't seem to think so. She seemed much more interested in checking out my outfit." Leaning closer, he whispered, "I think I passed muster."

I shot a look at his outfit – black slacks and a gray button-up shirt. Black Italian leather shoes. No tie, but he didn't necessarily need one. "I'm sure you did. Sarah's all about fashion."

"Then I'm sure that Dr. Pritchett isn't her favorite teacher."

I turned to face him on the small bench. "How do you know Dr. Pritchett?"

"I don't," he said. "The school asked me to speak to classes today. Which reminds me, what are you doing for lunch?"

Taken aback, I said, "I usually go with Sarah. It's open campus, so we go and grab something at a nearby restaurant."

His eyes darkened slightly, looking almost indigo. "Skip lunch with her today. Come and have lunch with me."

At the rather abrupt and straightforward invitation, I felt myself go up in flames, and I was sure that it showed. "You're asking me to have lunch with you?"

"As a matter of fact," he returned dryly, "that's exactly what I just said. It's almost like you were sitting right here. Oh… wait… You _are_ sitting right here."

Biting back my own witty remark, I said, "I don't know if that's such a great idea."

"Getting free lunch isn't a good idea?" he asked me innocently. "Come, Phoebe; I thought we were becoming fast friends. _If music be the food of love, play on!_"

I rolled my eyes at him. "Are you only quoting Shakespeare to convince me to have lunch with you?"

"I thought it might help," he admitted. "But I have other methods of persuasion, if you care to find out." Something about the way that he said that made me shiver. Made me picture being alone with him behind closed doors, where no one could hear what he would do to me. _What would he be like in bed? Wild and possessive or gentle and tender?_

Horrified at the turn that my thoughts had taken, I said, "Why do you want to have lunch with me?"

And there was that secretive smile again. He looked at the fountain, though he actually seemed to be looking into the past. "Can I not just wish to have lunch with a pleasurable companion, Miss Grey?"

_Pleasurable…_ Of course, that got my thoughts turned back in the direction of being alone with Adrian behind closed doors. And that wasn't a safe path for my thoughts. "Where?"

He flashed me a triumphant grin. "Wherever your heart so desires, Miss Grey."

Evilly, I said, "La Blanc." It was one of the more exclusive lunch restaurants in Seattle, and it was always booked months in advance. You couldn't just show up and expect to be given a table. It was an unfair challenge.

But he accepted it without pause. "Certainly. I'll call ahead. What time shall I be waiting for you out front?"

"Eleven-thirty."

"Excellent." He rose and smiled down at me. "I'll see you then, Miss Grey." And then he was walking across the lawn, moving with the grace of a gazelle.

_Did I seriously just compare him to a gazelle?_

Once he was out of sight, I jumped up and headed into the building. The bell rang and Sarah met me in second period French, making a beeline right for me as soon as she was through the door. She plopped down into her seat and gave me that look… _the look_. "Tell me everything, Phoebe Grey. Right now."

You couldn't argue with that look, but I tried a different tactic. "It's really nothing, Sarah. We met at the party and that's that. And… well… he asked me to have lunch with him today. Is that okay with you? I mean, I know that you and I usually go somewhere together for lunch, but-"

"Are you _kidding_?!" she asked me, mouth falling open. "You _have_ to go. And you have to tell me _everything_! Where are you two going?"

I looked down at my hands. "Um… La Blanc."

There was silence and when I looked up, I saw that it was because she was awed. "He's taking you to one of the most expensive restaurants in Seattle?"

"He's a billionaire," I said, almost defensively. "He's just used to eating in places like that." _And I issued him a challenge, essentially_. "It's not a big deal or anything."

"If you have to tell yourself that it's not a big deal, it's a big deal," she told me sagely. "You're going to be late for Calculus. But we have a sub today anyway, so it's not like we'll have roll to worry about. Oh, my God," she gasped. "Does your dad know?"

"No!" I said, suddenly slightly panicked. Leaning closer, I pleaded with her. "You can't tell him. He would… I don't know what he'd do…"

She rolled her green eyes at me. "Seriously, Phoebe. I'm not going to tell your dad anything. You know I'd even lie for you if he called me."

Relieved, I smiled at her. "Thanks, Sarah."

She jabbed my arm with a hot pink nail. "I'm serious about you telling me everything, though." She winked at me. "He seems yummy. Are you two going to hook up?"

My mouth fell open. "Sarah!"

"What?" she asked innocently. "He's hot and rich and obviously experienced. You could learn a lot from him. And you never hook up with anyone-"

"That's because I don't think sex should be like that," I said softly, so as not to be overheard. "Sex – especially your first time – should be with someone that you really love and trust. Not something to be thrown away at a party."

She shrugged as the tardy bell rang. "To each his own. But I seriously wouldn't mind hearing details about your hooking up with Mr.-"

"Stop," I hissed at her.

She laughed as the teacher came in and began to call roll.


	5. Chapter 5

**~*~*~*~ "I will speak daggers to her, but use none." ~*~*~*~**

"Miss Grey." Adrian stood beside a black Lexus, a tall, well-dressed man beside him that I assumed was to him what Taylor was to us. "How were your last two classes?"

"Fine, thank you," I answered him politely. Around him, it seemed, I never knew how to act. Polite one minute, joking the next, quoting Shakespeare… He had me all across the map. "How did your lecturing go?"

He gave a small smile and turned to open the door to the backseat for me. "Let's just say that I'm glad it's over. Shall we depart?"

Instead of answering, I folded myself as gracefully as possible into the back of his Lexus. It smelled like leather and laundry detergent and mint. And when Adrian folded himself in after me, it also smelled like that delicious cologne that almost made my mouth water.

"La Blanc, Arthur," he called to his companion once he was behind the driver's seat. The one apparently named Arthur gave him a nod and then we were off, pulling away from the safety of the school and into the unknown. The thought made me shiver with nerves and anticipation.

"You seem nervous," he noted, observing me closely.

I blushed and looked out the window on my side, hoping that he wouldn't notice. It was clouding up, after all, so there wasn't a ton of natural light… "I'm not nervous."

He chuckled, almost darkly. "How you lie, Miss Grey."

Of course he could see right through me. I'd never been the most spectacular of liars. And as if that wasn't bad enough, my conscience began to harp on me. _Are you absolutely insane? You just got into a car and are driving off into the unknown with a man that you hardly know! Sure, he _says_ you're going to La Blanc, but he could take you anywhere that you want and you would be helpless. Not only is he surely stronger than you, but he has a companion with him that looks young and strong. What are you going to do? Sarah knows that you're with him and what the plan is, but she also promised not to tell on you. If you didn't come back to school, she would assume that you decided to sleep with him or something. No one would know what had happened to you…_

"Are your thoughts running away with you, Miss Grey?"

_Holy crap… How did he know that_? I cleared my throat. "Just wondering what I'm going to have at La Blanc; I haven't eaten there in quite a while. You managed to get reservations?"

He snorted, as if the very insinuation that he couldn't get reservations was an insult. "Of course I did, Phoebe."

_Phoebe…_ _Is that the first time he's called me by my first name?_ He always called me 'Miss Grey', and that had been fine with me because I had always hated the name Phoebe. But he made it sound… okay. I still would have preferred a more normal name like Anna or Kristen or Casey, but Phoebe was all right, too.

"Good," I said softly and looked back out the window, trying to guess how long it would be until it rained. I was going to miss the super frequent rain showers when I moved away from Seattle. I thought that rain was one of the most natural beauties of the earth. It refreshed plant life, created fun splash puddles, and played a beautiful rhythm on car roofs and windows and trees. I would never get enough of rain.

"Please tell me what you're thinking," he said softly after several long moments of silence. "I can't tell."

Raising an eyebrow, I looked over at him. "_Should_ you be able to tell?"

"Usually, I can," he answered honestly and then frowned slightly. "But with you… I don't know. You can be hard to read sometimes."

"I'll take that as a compliment," I told him and turned once more to look out the window. "I don't want to be an open book; that's what Shakespeare is for."

He hummed and I thought it was in amusement, but I couldn't be entirely sure. He was harder to read than I was. "Have you decided what you'll be ordering?"

"Not yet." La Blanc's menu had actually been the farthest thing from my mind. "What about you?"

"I've not yet decided, either." As he finished his sentence, the rain began to fall not in the gentle smattering of sprinkles, but all at once, a rushing wave of rain blown by a fierce wind.

I smiled and pressed myself a little closer to the window, looking out at the beauty of the storm. And just as I raised my hand to press it against the glass, I felt him move next to me, until his body was all but pressed into mine.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he breathed into my ear. "The unrestrained power."

_He likes the rain, too_? "Yes," I breathed back at him, my breath slightly fogging the window. "Beautiful."

We stayed like that for several long minutes and just when I could take it no longer and was about to turn and ask him to kiss me, he moved away, back to his seat on the other side of the car. It wasn't much distance, but it felt like a chasm in that moment and I had a feeling that he knew it.

When we arrived at La Blanc, Arthur opened my door and held an umbrella over me so that I could get into the restaurant without getting wet. Adrian must have had an umbrella, too, because he wasn't wet when he gave the name to the hostess, who took us to our seats immediately. Adrian ordered wine for himself and I ordered a water with lime. We looked over our menus in silence, received our drinks, and gave our orders to the waiter.

Finally, Adrian looked up at me with this dark, depthless look in his eyes. It sent shivers down my spine.

"It's rude to stare, you know," I told him, attempting to be brave, before I unfolded my napkin and set it in my lap.

"Then I'll be rude," he declared matter-of-factly.

"I'm sure you were raised better than that," I told him and reached for my water glass. _Why is my mouth so dry?_

"My mother can roll in her grave," he said, shocking me into looking up at him. He was calmly swirling the wine in his glass, looking at it almost with fascination. "Miss Grey," he said and looked up into my eyes, a smirk curving his lips. "It's rude to stare."

Face flaming, I looked down at my water glass. "I wasn't."

"So you claim." Before I could rebut, the waiter came back with our food – they had really double-timed it – and then we were alone once more with our food. To distract myself from my swirling thoughts, I set to work pouring the dressing on my salad before digging in. I wasn't going to let him make me uncomfortable.

"I tried to stay away from you, you know," he said halfway through our silent meal.

I looked up at him in confusion and found him looking at me with something like a bittersweet sadness. "Tried to stay away from me? What do you mean? Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked me, and I could tell that he truly thought it was. "You're an angel, Phoebe Grey, and I'm the devil. I shouldn't ask you to fall with me."

I almost protested with outrage until I realized that he hadn't said 'fall _for_ me'. He had said 'fall _with_ me', whatever that meant. Collecting myself, I asked him, "You're saying you're no good for me?"

He nodded and took another sip of his wine. "So I told myself to stay away from you, because you didn't need that in your life." He paused. "But sin always seems to find its way to me anyway, so it was really no use. I was a goner from the moment you stumbled – literally – upon me at that party."

The sincerity in his voice and his eyes made my heart begin to pound… but in a good way. "I don't think that sin finds people, Adrian. People are attracted to sin; it's the human condition."

He smiled at me. "Perhaps you're right, Miss Grey."

"Is that a scary concept for you?" I asked him boldly. "You being wrong about something?"

"No," he responded seriously. "I know that I am frequently wrong, Miss Grey. In fact, I operate better in the black and grey areas of life than I do in the white."

"Why do you suppose that is?" _Why are you still sitting here?! You need to get away from this guy! He's bad news! Run! Run!_

He considered this for a moment, finishing off the last of his wine before he finally answered. "I suppose it is, in part, a choice that I made when I turned sixteen. But I also think that it's a part of me that I was born with. Like how some people just naturally prefer blue to red. It's inexplicable."

"So what are your blues and reds?" I asked him, even though my conscience was still screaming at me to get away from him and never look back.

He was no longer looking at me, but appeared to be lost in his own thoughts. "Do you really want to know?" he asked me softly.

"Yes."

Nodding absentmindedly, he signaled for the check and then looked into my eyes. "Then you won't be going back to school today, Miss Grey. I suggest that you go and make the necessary arrangements."


	6. Chapter 6

**~*~*~*~ "What a piece of work is man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals!." **

After I had stepped away from the table to call Sarah and ask her to cover for me (of course she agreed and promised to take care of everything), I made my way back to Adrian to find him signing the receipt and rising from the table at my approach. "Everything taken care of, Miss Grey?"

Unable to speak – choked with fear and nervousness and excitement – I simply nodded. He seemed to understand, and gripped my elbow gently to lead me out of the restaurant. Arthur was waiting with the door open, and we ducked inside to shelter ourselves from the rain that was still pouring. Once Arthur was seated, Adrian gave some kind of signal to him and then we were off through the city.

I tried to pay attention to where we were headed, but with the rain and the thoughts running through my mind, I found that my attention span was quite short. So, finally, I simply settled back against the seat and stared straight ahead.

"Don't worry, Miss Grey," Adrian murmured softly. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him doing something on his cell phone. "You're going to be okay."

Somehow, his words put me at ease. _Oh, sure, trust the possible serial killer…_I once again looked out the window and noticed that we were leaving Seattle behind. The car's clock told me that it was just past twelve-thirty, which meant that I had three hours until school was over. And even then, I had another few hours because I was supposed to volunteer at the library after school and Taylor wouldn't show up to get me because I was planning to ride with Sarah.

We drove for a while and just before one, we turned off on a barely discernable road. _See? I told you that this was a bad idea! They're going to pull off into the woods somewhere and kill you! They'll bury you where you'll never be found and then what will happen? Your family will fall apart! No one will know what happened! You'll die before getting to experience college and a job and life…_

"Disappointing, Miss Grey," Adrian said softly, giving me a sardonic smile. "How little you trust me. I thought we had a connection."

_How does he know what I'm thinking?_ "I… I do trust you."

Something in his eyes darkened. "I hope that's true." He looked out the window – the rain hadn't yet reached this area – and nodded approval. "We're here. Arthur, have the crews been through yet?"

"Yes, sir," Arthur answered from behind the wheel. "The last crew just left a little over an hour ago."

"Good."

Crew? I looked out the window and gaped at the house that we were approaching. The home that I had lived in all of my life was big and fancy, but this…

It was four stories, it seemed, and made of a material that looked like old stone from Dracula's castle. The windows were modern and new, tinted. Hidden away by the trees and hills, it seemed to be the perfect getaway.

As Arthur pulled us into one of the garages, I asked Adrian, "Whose house is this?"

"Mine, now," he answered and opened his door, beckoning for me to follow him. "I bought it the day after the party at the Ezras."

Dumbfounded, I followed him out and he took my hand to help me stand, another gesture of habitual chivalry. Without a word, he took my arm and led me inside, through a laundry room, a kitchen, and finally into a large living room decorated with sleek, modern furniture. Arthur did not follow us.

My eyes were immediately drawn to a grand piano in the corner of the room. Playing the piano was something that my father and I shared, and it made me think of how guilty I felt to be somewhere that I wasn't supposed to be.

Adrian noticed my preoccupation. "Do you play?" he asked politely.

"Yes," I answered and turned to face him, getting shivers from the way that he was looking at me. "My father taught me."

"Christian Grey playing the piano," he murmured. "An amusing picture, though I suppose not completely far-fetched. Come. Sit. Can I get you something to drink?"

I obediently sank down onto one of the long couches, crossing my legs as I did so. "No, thank you."

He nodded and then sat across from me on the edge of a chaise lounge, making the awkward perch look comfortable and natural. "Why are you here, Miss Grey?" he asked me, and I felt like I'd just sat down for an interrogation.

But my snarky side decided to do all of the talking. "Because Arthur drove us here."

He didn't smile. "Let's set the wit aside for now, Miss Grey. Answer my question. Now."

I responded instantly to the command. "Because I want to know the blues and reds. I want to know what makes you tick. I want to know why I…" I gulped and took a breath. _Be brave._ "I want to know why I can't stop thinking about you."

"Have you dreamed of me?" he wondered. "Because I've dreamed of you. Every night since that party."

_You, too_? "Yes."

"Good." He leaned forward a little more and said, "I have secrets, Phoebe Grey."

"So do I," I answered him, confused. "So does everyone."

"Not like this." His smile was one I'd never seen before – diabolical and bad boy, offering no apology. "You said that you wanted to know, so I'll tell you. But you'll need to sign a non-disclosure agreement first. You've already had your eighteenth birthday, have you not?"

"Y-yes," I stammered and cleared my throat. "Fine; I'll sign."

He nodded and rose. "I'll be right back." And then he was gone, disappearing into a room I'd yet to see.

In his absence, I looked around the room and noticed the lack of personality. It was a well-decorated room, but there were no photographs or personal affects. As though he had hired an interior decorator to do whatever they so pleased with the space.

He was back a minute later, holding a file folder, which he handed to me along with an expensive fountain pen. "Read this over and sign in the spaces marked by pink tabs."

I opened the folder and my eyes widened. It was genuinely an official NDA. With apprehension, I began to read, getting a bit confused in some places, though I worked my way through it. I knew that I probably could have asked him questions, but I was too stubborn to do so. Finally, I had finished, and I signed my name with a flourish before initialing where I was supposed to.

Handing it back to him, I bravely looked him right in the eye. "There, I signed your agreement. Now tell me what I want to know."

But he took his time, taking the folder from me and reading it over to be sure that I had signed everywhere that I was supposed to. Once he was satisfied, he rose and walked to a wall, where he moved a painting to get to a wall safe. After the document was stowed safely inside, he turned and walked back over to me, holding out his hand so that he could help me stand. I was confused, but obediently took his hand and allowed him to help me rise. We then headed for the staircase and began to climb.

At the top of the stairs we turned left and immediately climbed up the last staircase, which led up to a locked door made of some strange material I had never seen before. It was black and looked extraordinarily thick.

"Soundproof," he said when he saw me looking, and he withdrew a key from his pocket and stuck it in. Just before he turned it, he looked back at me, expressionless. "You're sure about this, Miss Grey?"

_Oh, my God. There could be dead bodies in there. There could be all kinds of weapons that he plans to kill you with…_ "I'm ready."

Nodding, he turned the knob and pushed the door open, flipping on a light before moving to allow me to step in ahead of him.

When I had done so, I gasped.

_Oh… My… God…_

Though the light was on, the room was dim. But that didn't hinder me from seeing the contents of the room. One wall held an assortment of… weapons; canes, whips, and the suchlike. Another wall held row upon row of shelves, filled with things I'd never seen before, along with a shower, a large First Aid kit, and a long sink. Against the back wall was a large X. In the middle of the room was a large bed, larger than king, made up in sheets of the darkest black.

Whirling, I looked into the expressionless face of Adrian Taylor and knew that he was more messed up than I had ever imagined. "Adrian?" I asked softly, but he hardly responded. Just stared at me calmly. "What is this?" I refused to admit my fear.

"This," he said, stepping forward to gesture about the room. "Is my playroom." He looked into my eyes. "I am a Dominant, Phoebe."

Another step drew him too near, and he cupped my face in his hands, refusing to let me look away. "And I want you to be my Submissive."


	7. Chapter 7

**~*~*~*~ "Blow, blow, thou winter wind! Thou art not so unkind as man's ingratitude." ~*~*~*~**

"You want me to be your _what_?" I wanted to look at him, but I couldn't help but look around the room that reminded me of what a torture chamber during the Spanish Inquisition must have looked like. There were even some shackles dangling from some kind of maze on the ceiling, and shackles connected to one end of the bed.

_What the hell is this?! I knew that I should have left when I had a chance! Oh, God, I don't want him to hurt me…_

"Submissive," he said, speaking much as my teachers would during a classroom lecture. "Literally the one in a dominant-submissive relationship that submits to the dominant. That would be me." He took a step forward, closing the distance that I had somehow put between us. "I want to be your dominant, Phoebe. I want to show you pain, yes, but I also want to show you pleasure. I've been studying you; I've recognized this need inside of you to be dominated – a need that you probably don't even see in yourself. But you will see, Phoebe, if you let me _show_ you."

_Submit to a dominant? Submit to Adrian? Submit to him how? Pain? Pleasure? Need to be dominated?_ "Nothing that you're saying to me right now makes any sense," I said as I once again took a step away from him.

"Has a boy ever been able to excite you before, Phoebe?" he asked me, wisely choosing not to close the distance. "Or, when you've kissed before, has it been difficult for you to respond? Have you wondered if there was something wrong with you?"

I remembered those few times at parties that I'd somehow been able to sneak off to, when I'd go off alone with a guy and we'd kiss and I would just feel… empty. Like it wasn't doing anything for me and I was afraid that I couldn't respond. I wondered why other girls had such amazing feelings while kissing and I was just so busy worrying about how I smelled or how I was supposed to move or where I was supposed to put my hands. I was so busy thinking that I never had a chance to just feel. I _had_ wondered if there was something wrong with me or if maybe some people just weren't meant to respond.

"I don't see how being… _submissive_ would help me with that," I told him, though his words had given me pause.

He strolled absentmindedly to one wall and began to finger a cane. "Because you give up control. That's your problem, Phoebe; you have a need for control. If you give all of that up to me, I can show you what you've been missing. I can take control of your body and take you to places that you've never even thought to dream of." He turned and faced me, eyes on fire. "Let me show you."

Part of me wanted to run out and never look back… but the other part of me won. "How would… how would something like this work?"

Instead of smiling triumphantly like I had assumed he would, he turned back to the wall and said, "We'd come to an agreement of the terms, you'd sign a contract, and then you would no longer have to worry about how it would work. It would be my responsibility, as the dominant, to take care of everything. Your health, your travel, your _pleasure_."

Needing a few moments to compose myself, I turned to face the wall with the shelves of unfamiliar objects. "I've never done anything like this, Adrian." My voice lowered to a whisper. "Nothing at all."

"That's okay, baby," he said, and I strangely felt my heart lift at his words. "I didn't expect you to. I know that it'll be new for you. I'm prepared to work with you, to train you. You'll learn. And you'll like it."

The horrible part was that I was actually intrigued by what he was saying. I actually wanted to hear more, maybe even to agree. As he spoke, an overwhelming desire to have him touch me, kiss me, make love to me, overcame me. I'd never felt desire so strong before.

"_In God 'tis glory: And when men aspire, 'Tis but a spark too much of heavenly fire…"_

"I've never done _anything_," I told him, still refusing to look at him. "No sex, no…_ bases_. I've kissed before, but I could never…"

"I don't usually like to be a woman's first," he said, "but I'll make an exception for you, if you'll let me. I'll be gentle with you for your first time."

_But not for the other times_; I heard his unspoken words. I'd heard of BDSM before, of course (you couldn't go to high school without hearing all about it), and I knew that rough sex was kind of a staple. BDSM involved handcuffs and whips and spanking and all manner of kink. I'd never considered myself participating in it before.

"I don't know," I told him and finally turned to look at him, finding him mere feet away, watching me closely, hands stuffed in the pockets of his slacks. "I don't know if I can make myself… I just don't know about any of this."

He nodded as if he had expected that reaction from me. "I didn't expect you to make a decision today. I just wanted you to see what you'd be getting yourself into. Here." He walked over to one of the shelves, dug around, and pulled out another file folder. Bringing it to me, he said, "This is the contract that you'll sign if you decide that you'd like to go ahead with this arrangement. Read it over and call me if you have any questions. My number is in the information and I'll have Arthur give you a cell phone on the way out. I'm sure that your father traces the numbers that you call."

_Wow… way to think ahead_.

He smirked as I took the folder from him. "Doms have to be good at planning, Phoebe. I've thought all of this through. Do you have any questions right now?"

I couldn't think clearly enough to come up with any questions, so I simply shook my head.

He frowned disbelievingly, but didn't call me out on lying. "All right, then. Feel free to let me know when you do. And don't forget that you signed a non-disclosure agreement, so there should not be any mention of this confidential information to anyone, not even your blond friend."

"Like I would want to tell Sarah any of this, anyway," I said with a roll of my eyes. She would flip out and probably call my father, promise or not. Not that I would really be able to blame her for that…

His eyes darkened and in a flash he was in front of me, grabbing my arms and pulling me towards him. His face was inches from mine, so tempting. "If you had already signed the contract, I would bend you over the whipping bench right now and spank you for rolling your eyes at me. And maybe for the snarky remark… I would have to make a split second decision on that one."

To my surprise, I felt turned on by his statement. _Maybe he was right… maybe I do need to be dominated to get excited_. The very thought made me even more confused; I was going to have so much to think about. So much information to ingest.

"Yes," he whispered when he saw the fear and excitement on my face. "Think on that for a while. Because that's how it's going to be, baby. I'll have rules, and you'll follow them. If you don't, I'll punish you; simple as that. Understand?"

I could only nod.

"Excellent." He released my arms and immediately backed away as though nothing had happened. "We should get going. Are you volunteering at the library today?"

"I was going to, yes," I answered him softly, legs like Jell-O.

"Come." He took my arm and guided me out of the playroom, locking the door behind us. We descended the stairs and he said, "Arthur will drive you. I have a feeling that you need some time away from me to think about all of this."

Actually, now that I thought about it, it was exactly what I needed. _How did he know exactly what I needed before I even knew_? "That would be nice."

We reached the living room and he bade me sit while he went to fetch Arthur from wherever Arthur was lingering. _Does Arthur know the secrets of the man that he works for? Does he have any kind of idea? If he did, would he warn me? _

_When did Adrian become like this? How did he discover BDSM? Why does he like it so much? Will _I_ like it? Is there really a need within me to be dominated? What if I'm no good at this? Is this really a good idea? What if get hurt? Actually… isn't that kind of the point?_

"Phoebe." Adrian was in the doorway, looking at me disapprovingly. I shot to my feet. "Arthur is ready to take you now. Do you have everything you need?"

I looked down at the file folder in my hands, the one that held what I had dubbed 'The Devil's Contract'.

_Do I need this?_

"Yes," I answered and breezed past him.


	8. Chapter 8

**~*~*~*~ "Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't." ~*~*~*~**

Sarah kept asking me what was wrong, but I didn't exactly know what was safe to tell her. She of course knew that it was something about Adrian, but I just told her that it was the fact that he was a bit overwhelming at first and we were still getting to know one another. She knew there was something that I was hiding from her, but she maintained that she wouldn't say anything to anyone about me going off to have lunch with him and skipping school.

When I finally got home, I had dinner with everyone and had to use the excuse that I had a headache to get everyone to stop asking me what was wrong. My mother finally gave me some medicine and told me to go and get some rest. That was all the excuse that I needed to retreat to my room and get out the contract to read over.

It began by simply stating the parties of the contract, along with the date and our addresses. It then went on to say: **The parties agree as follows: 1. The following are the terms of a binding contract between the Dominant and the Submissive.**

_Binding contract? What's he going to do if I break the contract?_

**2. The fundamental purpose of this contract is to allow the Submissive to explore her sensuality and her limits safely, with due respect and regard for her needs, her limits and her wellbeing.**

_Explore my sensuality and _limits_? What in the world are my limits? _

**3. The Dominant and the Submissive agree and acknowledge that all that occurs under the terms of this contract will be consensual, confidential, and subject to the agreed limits and safety procedures set out in this contract.**

_Consensual… Confidential; duh, I wouldn't want anyone knowing what we're doing anyway. Safety procedure? Jeez… we need safety procedures? This can't be good. _

**4. Adherence to the above warranties, agreements and undertakings (and any additional limits and safety procedures agreed under clause 3 above) are fundamental to this contract. Any breach shall render it void with immediate effect and each party agrees to be fully responsible to the other for the consequence of any breach.**

_Consequence of any breach? What consequences? Responsible to the other for such a breach…? _

**5. If at any time the Dominant should fail to keep to the agreed terms, limitations and safety procedures set out in this contract or agreed additionally under clause 3 above the Submissive is entitled to terminate this contract forthwith and to leave the service of the Dominant without notice.**

_Okay… I like this. It's essentially an escape clause for me._

**6. The Dominant reserves the right to dismiss the Submissive from his service at any time and for any reason. The Submissive may request her release at any time, such request to be granted at the discretion of the Dominant.**

_So, at any moment, he can just decide that he doesn't want me anymore? Then again… it does say that I can _ask_ to be released…_

**7. The following service provisions have been discussed and agreed and will be adhered to by both parties during the Term. Both parties accept that certain matters may arise which are not covered by the terms of this contract or the service provisions, or that certain matters may be renegotiated. In such circumstance further clauses may be proposed by way of amendment. Any further clauses or amendments must be agreed, documented and signed by both parties and shall be subject to the fundamental terms set out at clauses 2-5 above.**

I had to read that last one several times before I felt like I fully understood. Finally satisfied, I moved on to the section of rules. I wasn't allowed to look into his eyes. I wasn't allowed to call him by his name – I had to call him 'Sir', 'Master', or 'Master Taylor'. I wasn't allowed to have relations with any other man while I was with him – which I wouldn't have done anyway, contract or no. He wanted to provide me with birth control, certain clothes to wear in his presence, and a personal trainer four times a week. Oh, and there was a meal plan for me… _seriously_?

And then came the fun part…

**What is the Submissive's general attitude about receiving pain? Where 1 is likes intensely and 5 is dislikes intensely: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 How much pain does the submissive want to receive? Where 1 is none and 5 is severe: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5**

Just seeing it there in black and white made it so… real. He actually _wanted_ to cause me some level of pain. It's what got him off. And, apparently, he thought that it would get me off as well.

And it got even better. There were hard and soft limits, apparently. Hard limits were things that I absolutely would not agree to. Soft limits were things that I wasn't sure about, but might be willing to try. Then there was a list of things that I had to check yes or no on 'willing to try'. Flogging, spanking, being tied up… It was so surreal. I'd always thought of sex as fairly plain and simple, but that was no longer my view. Sex could get very, very complicated.

When I had finally finished reading the long – and very legal-sounding – contract, I carefully set it aside and began to pace as I often did when I was working through something in my head. My room was cold – just the way that I liked it – but I was burning up.

_How could I even think about reading something like this? Why would I ever want to listen to someone that gets turned on by whipping people and beating them with canes? How do I even know that this is going to work for me? Maybe he lied and there actually _is_ something wrong with me. I don't need to be doing this. BDSM is just so… not me. I operate under normal and beautiful and a completely different area of life than he does. I don't know what happened to make him so screwed up in the head, but I don't need to let him drag me down with him. The smart thing to do at this point in time would be to tell him I'm not interested. I won't say anything to anyone in honor of our agreement, but I can't participate in something like this…_

But I couldn't deny the part of me – the strange, new part of me – that just _wanted _him. I still wasn't sure what it was about him, but there was something that just made me want to be near him – some unfathomable attraction. I mean, he was good-looking and everything, but it was more than that. When he spoke, I listened, almost as though my body didn't see any other way for it to be. Did that make me a submissive? Was the secret submissive side of me responding to the dominant part of him? Was that what the attraction was?

When I could take it no more, I unlocked the cell phone that Arthur had given me. I'd looked at it a bit on the way to the library, and I knew how to work it because it was an iPhone. The only contact that I had was Adrian and – oddly enough – Arthur. Adrian had also set me up my new e-mail account, which I opened to send him a message.

_Sir, _I typed.

_I have spent the last couple of hours reading and researching and thinking about the contract. It's a lot to take in, frankly. I just wondered if some of these things were up for negotiation. For example, I'm not comfortable with having a personal trainer. Could I not just follow an exercise plan?_

_Regards,_

_Phoebe_

I paced some more, thinking, and then received an e-mail from him.

_Miss Grey,_

_I'm glad to see that you are taking the contract seriously. _

_Yes, some of the contract is up for negotiation. As a show of good faith, I have already e-mailed my trainer and asked him to make you a personalized fitness plan. What other sections would you like to discuss?_

_Regards,_

_Adrian_

I reread the contract, typing as I went.

_Sir,_

_Do I have to call you Sir? I'm a lot more comfortable with your name. Why can't I look at you? How do you suppose I go about getting birth control? I also don't think that buying me clothes is necessary… trust me, my closet is full._

_Regards,_

_Phoebe_

It was a while later when I received two e-mails from him. The first was an attachment of my fitness plan, which looked fairly intense, though I supposed that I was okay with that. The second was his response to my e-mail.

_Miss Grey,_

_Calling me 'Sir' (or any of the other options) is a show of respect that is important in a submissive. It will help to get you in the right state of mind. Do not worry about the birth control; I will take care of everything, as is my responsibility as the Dominant. As for the clothing, you will need clothes in your room at my home. Just send me your sizes and I will make the necessary arrangements._

_Regards,_

_Adrian_

Frustrated, confused, angry, and tired, I tossed the phone aside and crawled under my covers. _Why am I so screwed up_? Finally, I cried.


	9. Chapter 9

**~*~*~*~ "There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." ~*~*~*~**

"Good morning, Miss Grey."

Startled, I dropped Dante's _The Divine Comedy_ and whirled, finding myself facing the object of my thoughts for the last few days. After reading his contract, I had stuffed the phone he'd given me deep in my closet and tried to forget about him. It hadn't worked, and I should have known that he would come looking for me. Part of me had even wanted to, had imagined what I would say if I saw him again.

"Um… hi," I breathed and stooped down to grab my book, holding it to my chest like a shield. "You're… here. At the library."

"Yes," he said, and I wished that I could read his face. "This is where I thought you might be. When is your shift over?"

"Ten minutes." _Why can't I lie to him?_ "Unless we get a rush." _Why did Sarah have to be sick today?_

He nodded and straightened. "I'll be waiting for you right outside, then. We need to talk."

I should have told him no. I should have kept my distance from him. But I only found myself nodding in agreement. "Ten minutes."

He said nothing else, simply turned and headed for the exit. He moved so gracefully, even in slacks and a dress shirt. I had missed that inborn confidence, though I knew that I shouldn't have been thinking about him. Shouldn't be meeting with him when my shift was over. But I found myself texting Taylor and my father, telling them that I was picking up an extra shift because we were crowded and Sarah was sick. I received a quick response that told me to call Taylor whenever I thought I would be ready.

_Lying… we can just add that to the list of all the stupid things you've been doing lately. Sneaking off campus to go and see a guy without permission. Even considering the possibility of entering into a BDSM relationship with someone. What's adding one more? Lying…_

I shoved my conscience out of my head and went back to work, making sure that everything was done so that I could leave on time when my shift was over. My replacement arrived three minutes early, so I was able to quickly give her an update on what I had done and then dart away before anyone could decide they needed me.

Knowing it would make me late (and cursing that fact), I went to the bathroom. When I was done, I quickly checked my ponytail and my makeup. Once I was satisfied that I looked okay, I headed outside, finding Adrian sitting on the steps, scrolling through his cell phone, looking for all the world like a bored businessman. I just stood there, admiring the way that the breeze ruffled his espresso hair.

Before I could walk up and announce my presence, he said, "You're four minutes late, Miss Grey. Did they need you inside?"

I easily could have lied to him, but for some reason, that was too hard for me. "No. I needed to duck into the restroom for a moment."

Adrian slipped his cell phone into his pocket, stood, and just looked at me. The ten feet between us felt like miles. Miles that I wanted to cover. "You haven't responded to any of my e-mails or text messages or phone calls. Problems with the new phone?"

"No," I choked out. "It… it works fine. I just… I needed some time to process all of this and I just-"

"Take a breath, Phoebe," he said and then climbed two of the steps, moving closer to me. "If you had read my e-mails, you would know that I made a few slight changes to the contract, at your suggestion. You should read over it."

He didn't ask if I even wanted to be involved with him anymore. But the thing was… I did. Standing there in front of him, I knew that there was nowhere else that I wanted to be. I knew that it was crazy – that I didn't know him well enough to be thinking those kinds of things – but I also knew that he might be my only chance to experience real pleasure. I didn't respond as other women, so I needed to try something a little outside the box.

I just hoped that actual _boxes_ weren't involved…

"This scares me," I admitted.

Something in his fiery blue eyes softened and he nodded, taking one step down and gesturing to the street below, where his black Lexus was waiting. "No Arthur today. I thought we could take a drive and talk things through." When he saw me thinking, he said, "I'll have you back here by whatever time you'll need to be back here. Please, talk to me."

"Two hours," I decided and got out my own cell phone so that I could send Taylor a text. "I need to be back here in two hours."

"Done," he declared, and watched as I sent Taylor a text to pick me up in two and a half hours. Taylor was always early, so I was playing it safe. Once I received a response, I slipped my phone back into my pocket and nodded, heading down the steps and toward the car. He opened the door for me, I slipped inside, and then we were off.

I watched him drive, noting that he only kept one hand – the left one – on the wheel. The other he rested on his leg. He watched the road but also shot glances at me, and I decided that checking out the interior of the car would be easier for me. It was a nice car, probably the newest model. But I could feel his eyes on me and I was getting distracted…

"If you get too hot or too cold, let me know," he said, and I could only nod in response.

We drove past my father's old apartment building and then I said, "You never told me not to be scared."

"There is beauty in fear," he said._ "Is it that they fear the pain of death, or could it be they fear the joy of life?"_

"You said that I would enjoy it," I answered. "You said that the pain and the pleasure… they're like the same thing."

"You need a stronger hand to respond to. I can be that hand for you. I'll show you the pleasures that sex can offer."

I had no doubt. I could feel myself caving every second that he continued to speak. "I have to let you hurt me?"

"You'll have safe words; you saw that in the contract," he said. "If you say 'green', then I know that you're okay and that I can push you harder. If you say 'yellow', then I'll stop and check your bonds or ask you what the problem is, but I know that you're still okay. If you say 'red', I stop immediately and we take a step back to talk about what went wrong. Your well-being is always going to be my top concern during play, Phoebe. The submissive, in traditional roles, has all of the power."

It made me feel better, knowing that I would have a way to slow things down or stop if I got scared. "And your rules… how will I know what the punishment will be if I break one?"

"That will largely be up to me, as the dominant," he said. "It'll depend on the severity of the broken rule, and sometimes I'll ask for your input. I am not a cruel master, Miss Grey. I try not to make split-second decisions. I will _never_ intentionally cause you excessive harm as a punishment."

The thought of him punishing me for anything – much less, rules that he had made up – was odd to me. But it was a good kind of odd, strangely enough. I liked this concept of submitting to a man and letting him give me the pleasure that I craved but had never received. "How do you suppose I get away every weekend?"

"That'll be up to you," he said. "You know your parents better than I do; you know what they would believe. Say you're spending the weekend with friends or some such thing. I'll help any way that I can with that."

I knew that my parents would believe whatever I told them. Ted had been a wild child, always attempting (and sometimes succeeding) to sneak out and go to parties or go hook up with girls. I was the good child, the one who went to bed when she was told and always did well in school. I'd never been in any major trouble before, so why would they expect any different from me now? "I think I can do that. With a weekend off a month. Or maybe every other weekend."

"If we do every other weekend, then I need one night every week as well." He was a fierce negotiator, but I supposed that's what made him such a good businessman. "Or a few hours during the day, if you could stand to skip school. I'll leave that choice up to you."

The thoughts were whirring around in my head, but I knew what I wanted to do. Knew what everything inside of me was pulling me to do. And a few minutes later, I finally gave the answer that, for me, was the only one there was.

"Okay," I told him. "I'll be your submissive."


End file.
